The rain drops a human

The rain drops a human @ Shreefal Mehta. 11 Jul 2020

To hear it read out loud: https://youtu.be/w2q9KIO5ckU

The dry baked earth gulps in vain

No soothing touch for this deep pain

The raised voice, dismissive look and wave of hand

Still the needy tap on the glass pane of wonderland.

The soft sinking couch of secure comfort

Embracing, it fills the bubble with my high worth.

Discomforting is the wanting gaze. How can a touch so fragile

Crack the egg? Do we fear it will let in the whole camel ?

Dehumanized, “poverty its ways should mend!”

But of comfort and novelty there could be no end...

In this icy calm cocoon, lies a pulsing red ember

Quietly raises the question that can tear asunder.

Neglected and ignored, parched for a touch or a sign

A marker, a hope, an answer, for this question mine:

Where is the humanity in this self-enclosing bubble?

Where is the uplifting of spirit from amidst the rubble?

Arms outstretched with questioning eyes call out to the skies

Under rolling grey mountains arriving with thundering cries

The first drop the skin twitches, then peeks opens a little pore

Drop by drop of selfless giving, a kind smile and then some more.

Each selfless drop the rain gives to the parched earth, fills heart lakes.

The rain drops form oceans of humanity, as life gives not takes.

A cry for help escapes and unlocks slowly our protected hearts

Let the other in to give, and receive the connection that starts.

The receiving the joy, the cool rain on hot skin

Raises the spirit, with each drop a human born ag’in.

Comments

Anticipation Moment

Anticipation Moment by Shreefal Mehta 31 Dec 2024 To listen, click here: https://youtube.com/shorts/jeOLFxDFUbc? Can you anticipate without anxiety? Like birds, on winds gentle, ride, wings stretched out, let thoughts glide. Are you eager without expectation? Circling in thermals they slowly rise, let the fragrance of ideas mesmerize Are you excited without hastiness? Hovering, hovering, now swooping, enjoy the scene just now forming. Eager, awaiting, excited, taste the moment. In the eye of the storm, I’m vividly awake; let thoughts circle; ‘tis the ring I take. Only the moment lives with fullness complete. Years months weeks count in days Many hours or minutes, all is just a haze Happy new year as fireworks flash and bells atoll. In each moment is the seed of eons, new and old At the stroke of midnight, the year past and new, lo behold! Hurtling through black space an inch at a moment… As I look down at the earth bel...

Not Every Poem must be finished

Not every poem must be finished © Shreefal Mehta 3 July 2020 Hear it read out loud: https://youtu.be/jwbEDNOh14U Not every poem that starts must be finished Not every dream must be dissected and diminished Some thoughts just offer a rare glimpse into the beauty of light Some birds soar high, not for food, just for freedom of flight. Not every rule is meant to be followed or broken And not every thought must be followed or spoken The fading soft light of a dream often awakens a song, Your looks in the morn give life more meaning than poems long. Not every poem that starts must be finished, Next dawn’s hidden in sunset’s curtains undiminished. The tiny seed hides a tree in full sight of those who would see The tiny atom holds more energy than all the waves in the sea Behind the curled fist, unspoken, unseen muscles flex, Not every life that blinks is forgotten, as the poet reflects.

A Walk In The Autumn Woods

by Shreefal Mehta Oct 2025 Jackets stayed home, boxed along with thoughts of winter. The forest feels open, airy, and somehow lighter After the hot and heavy broad leafy growth of summer. Light-leaved branches invite the sun to pour in as through an open door Now bathing the moss and rust-leaved forest floor, all in shade before. Yellow, orange red splatters covering the brown rustling carpeted floor Each leaf grown on its own high twig; and then fallen, perfectly in place The wind, in which it once swayed, gently carried it down through space. Once high pristine green, from canopy to carpet, still gracing patterns that interlace. Every leaf unfurls its role fully, even as the leaf now lies. Abundant growth now fallen in patterns, to human eyes, delight give. Like the leaf, observed or not, with total trust, in lows or highs, Unknowing greater patterns, yet secure in each moment, fully live. Tiny flowers rise ...

Expressions writings